After more than three decades using Windows as my daily driver, I’ve finally had enough. Why I switched from Windows to Mac isn’t down to some passing frustration or hype-driven impulse. It’s the result of a slow, painful erosion of trust—years of poor design decisions, forced Microsoft Account integration, compulsory hardware obsolescence, and user hostility. Microsoft ignored warnings, and in 2025, they made my decision for me.
A History of Warnings
This didn’t come out of nowhere. I’ve been feeling the cracks for over a decade—sometimes even ranting about them in blog posts when things got particularly frustrating. When Windows 8 launched, I criticised its flat, sterile UI and confusing UX. While the Metro typography was a nice touch, everything else felt like a regression.
Then came Windows 8.1 and its Microsoft Account integration. I flagged the risk of tying basic local functionality to a cloud service you don’t fully control. That concern only deepened with Windows 10, where the operating system increasingly acted like a marketing platform: telemetry everywhere, unwanted apps, and an update system that treated user consent as optional.
The apps were getting worse, too. Quality and consistency dropped off a cliff. I ranted when Microsoft dropped support for perfectly capable hardware. I sensed it was going to get worse.
And Then It Did
Fast forward to 2025—and here we are. Microsoft didn’t just fail to listen. They actively doubled down on the very things people hated.
The Microsoft Account trap has become a genuine liability. Recently a user got locked out of his own PC because Microsoft suspended their account. And since BitLocker was tied to that account? Their data was gone. No recourse, no appeal, no warning.
Windows 11’s requirements are draconian and artificial. Perfectly functional machines are now unsupported because they lack a TPM chip or fall foul of arbitrary CPU lists. Want to try installing it anyway? Microsoft will make it as painful as possible.
The Slow Destruction of Windows
What’s really happened to Windows over the years is a textbook case of enshittification—a platform once built for productivity and control now feels like a vehicle for upselling, telemetry, and noise. The Widgets app is the most visible symptom: a cluttered feed of tabloid clickbait and low-grade news, forced onto users without consent. For years, you couldn’t remove it—only disable it entirely through system settings or Group Policy hacks. Then there’s the Start Menu, which still insists on showing a Recommended area—even if you turn off the suggestions, the space stays there, empty and unusable. A constant reminder that your preferences don’t really matter.
Microsoft is finally starting to address some of this—both in the Start Menu and Widgets—but it’s taken years, and it still feels like a grudging concession. Too little, too late, if you ask me.
The Android Subsystem? That was supposed to be a game-changer. Instead, it arrived half-baked, region-locked, and ultimately abandoned. Just another example of Microsoft overpromising and quietly letting things rot.
All of this adds up. You’re no longer the user—you’re the product, the test subject, the afterthought. And Windows, once a workhorse, now feels like it’s trying to sell you something every time you boot up.
Windows still has a habit of degrading over time, even on powerful machines. It’s not uncommon to run into obscure errors, driver issues, or an update that quietly breaks something. There’s a sense of rot—a slow build-up of friction that makes the system feel bloated, less stable and more unpredictable the longer you use it.
I Switched—and I Don’t Miss It
So I moved on. My main machine is now a Macbook Air M4. A Lenovo laptop running Fedora KDE is my second home. And honestly? I don’t miss Windows. Not even a little. The games I want to play either run on macOS or on Linux using Proton. The rare Windows app I might need? It set a Windows 11 VM on my Mac, and I haven’t touched it so far.
And no, it’s not all perfect. I find macOS fullscreen behaviour clunky. I dislike that the Dock doesn’t group applications. Some UX choices feel inflexible in their own Apple way. But compared to the ongoing frustration I had with Microsoft? These are quirks. Not battles.
Final Thoughts
I didn’t jump ship because I was bored or curious. I left because the platform I’d built a career on stopped respecting its users. Microsoft once stood for developer tools, productivity, and versatility. Now it stands for friction, control, and indifference.
Why I switched from Windows to Mac wasn’t because Apple won me over. It’s because Microsoft pushed me away. And judging by the conversations I’m having lately—and what’s out there—I’m not the only one.